In New York City, Nemo brought us the perfect amount of snow to play and have fun.

Yesterday, after we’d been outside playing for a couple of hours or more, the wind coming off of the Hudson moved right through the many layers of clothing I was wearing.  I was shivering.  My son, meanwhile, took off his hat, happy as a clam to run around with his rosy cheeks and a big smile.

It snowed only a handful of times during my Georgia childhood, and one of those times my best friend and I, fifth graders at the time, encountered a small snow storm that shut down every single business in town.  We had no mittens or gloves- why would we, in general-so we put two pairs of socks on our hands and went outside to play.  By the time we came back in, my hands were absolutely florescent pink from the cold.

Here, the snow was magical this weekend.  The quiet and the freshness it brings to the City?  There’s nothing comparable.  Still, the phrase that kept popping into my own mind as I fought the good fight to stay warm in Nemo was this:  a fish out of water.